Favors
by FoxxFire5
Summary: A ficlet about Aziraphale and Crowley. It involves the Arrangement, an orphanage, and an unfortunate occurence that Crowley naturally caused that leads to an upset Aziraphale. R Rs are blessed/cursed/appreciated. : T for language, just in case.


"Think of it this way, angel," Crowley said, subtly backing away from the angered Principality. "The orphans get a free stay in a ritzy hotel for the holidays!"

"You burnt down their orphanage." Aziraphale marched closer to his counterpart, dangerously close to wagging his finger disapprovingly in Crowley's direction. (And when angels wagged their fingers, heads rolled. Not usually literally, but still, nothing good ever came of it.) "You were _supposed_ to be doing a good deed for me in exchange for that nasty power outage you had me cause."

"Yeeesss," Crowley replied. "I was. And I did."

"You set an _orphanage_ on _fire_."

"You're fond of pointing that out, aren't you?" Crowley asked. At the angel's unimpressed expression, he continued. "Think of how much insurance money all the little Tiny-Tim's and Orphan-Annie's will get."

"The _association_ gets the money, not the children, and some of them ended up in the _hospital_, Crowley," Aziraphale countered, crossing his arms. (The angel was rather skilled at inserting _italics_ into his speech when he was _upset_.)

"So a few of the puny ones suffered from smoke inhalation—big deal. I think they liked the attention. Besides, the fire engine was a big hit with the boys and they all enjoyed riding in the ambulances, what with the sirens."

The angel did not look particularly impressed.

Crowley continued, speaking in a silky tone he often used for persuasion that could not only melt butter but could also cause women's blouses (and occasionally men's trousers) to spontaneously unbutton or unzip. "I've seen to it that the new building will be much nicer, courtesy of a few guilty-conscienced individuals, and the kids are fine. Oh, and about that crooked administrator…"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, but he still looked overall entirely unmoved by Crowley's argument.

"I think he's going to resign, donate some of his private funds to charity, and turn his life around."

"What did you do?"

"I just…used some of my powers of persuasion." (1) The demon smiled winningly and the angel stifled a sigh.

***

1. What Crowley had actually done was manifest in the man's office, turn into a maggoty and fanged monster that was ridden with oozing orifices and bellowed something to the affect that the administrator was a vile sinner—spending the orphanage's money on underage strippers and cocktails in Vegas—and that he was going to burn in Hell for his misdeeds. And then he'd set fire to the man's collection of porn in the bottom drawer of his desk. How could Crowley have known the varnish would cause the fire to spread so quickly? Besides, the guy's expression had made it worth it, and it _would_ be better for the kids to move into a newer building.

***

"Speaking of which," Crowley said. "Several of the kiddies are going to be adopted into nice family environments by the end of the month."

"Nice family environments by whose standards? Mine or yours?" Aziraphale asked.

"Give me a little credit, angel," the demon replied with a smirk.

Aziraphale gave him a look that plainly said 'I-Already-Give-You-Too-Much-Credit-as-You-Have-Yet-to-Pay-a-Bill-this-Millennium-and-Anyway-I-Know-You,-You-Old-Serpent.'

It was Crowley's turn to sigh. "_Your_ standards, Aziraphale—honestly. I don't disappoint when it comes to favors. You know that."

After a moment of silence, Crowley could tell from the angel's expression that he was on his way to being forgiven, although the angel would still act huffy for a little while, on principle. It was routine, it was part of the Arrangement. Wile, thwart, complain, act aggravated, go out to drink. About that last bit…

"Can I tempt you to dinner?"

Aziraphale appeared to think it over. "I suppose you did your best…" This was said doubtfully. "And you _did_ attempt to set things right… So I think I must accept your apology."

Crowley opened his mouth as if to say, 'what apology?' but the angel kept speaking.

"I do think a visit to the children—" Aziraphale paused mid-thought, glanced at Crowley, and then changed his mind. (He may or may not have flash-backed to a certain birthday party.) "That is to say, I do think a chest of toys donated from us to the children and you taking me to dinner _would_ make up for everything splendidly. Especially if you actually pay for once, my dear."

The angel gave a small smile and strode out of the shop toward the Bentley. The demon followed close behind, pretending to be put out. (This was also part of their routine.)

"It's not really my turn for the tab, angel," Crowley growled. "And since when do demons hand out toys for children, unless the toys're infected with smallpox—

"That was blankets, dear, and I'm quite sure you never—"

"Not the point," Crowley interjected. "I don't give away presents to children unless they can catch on fire (2) and I hope you don't except me to actually give anyone any money."

***

2. He'd had a bit of a heyday in the 90s with a McDonald's toy in the shape of an X-men character. The toy let out sparks and, in one instant, charred a father's toupee. (None of the children were actually _burned_ as such… Though Crowley would, if one pointed that out to him, insist that part had all been rotten luck.)

***

Aziraphale halted and turned and _looked_ at (or 'through,' if you're picky about word choice) Crowley. "You _burnt_ down an _orphanage_."

"Oh _fine_, I'll send some sodding toys," the demon grumbled.

"And the tab?"

"Don't push your luck," Crowley growled, starting the Bentley.

But both he and Aziraphale were stifling small, affectionate smiles as they headed off to their favorite restaurant.


End file.
